


Synesthesia

by ixiepixie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixiepixie/pseuds/ixiepixie
Summary: The colors had left him, so what would it take to bring them back?





	Synesthesia

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading an interview with the lead singer of Panic! At The Disco and his words really resonated with me and pushed this out of my brain shjbjdhsj it started as just me writing my feelings but turned into a fic. Hope you enjoy. A little piece of my soul is in this one.

Colors, words, shapes. Alfred could see them all, and it was beautiful. When a song ended and changed to the next track, new colors appeared, the shapes melted into other forms, and words twisted to become something entirely different. That was how he had always seen the world when he listened to his favorite bands, when he wrote songs on napkins at coffee shops, or when he rode on a bus with headphones in. The music always took him somewhere new, a burst of colors that followed him wherever he went. When he had tried to explain this to his friends, they had looked at him like he was crazy, and he had to laugh it off. Pretending it was a joke hurt him, his insides twisting uncomfortably. No one would be able to understand.

Those long years in high school had turned his colors gray, the shapes vanished, and words no longer came to him. He’d lost all interest in his music, choosing to focus on things that his friends would like better. His guitar sat in his closet, untouched. The drum set he used to bang on? In the garage, gathering dust. Every year, the colors faded even more, and had all but vanished by the time he was graduated. Life had become a chore, nothing brought that same feeling back to him, but at least his friends and family were satisfied. His parents were proud of him for giving up his dreams and going for the dreams they’d picked for him. His friends enjoyed the sports they played together, urging him to play professionally. Naturally, he did as he was told, but all the joy on his face had become fake. His smile was forced, the laughs were hollow, yet no one seemed to notice.

Laying in bed, watching the ceiling fan rotate slowly, Alfred reflected on his life. What was good about it? Others would say he had it all, but was that really true? Did he really have it all if it all felt so empty? The tears started small at first, but as the weeks turned to months, more came out, spilling forth in tidal waves of blue. He wrote the first song in years, a testament to the pain that stabbed at his heart, gut wrenching feelings that awoke within him after so many years of being crushed and put to the side. He tore that paper in half, leaving it in the bottom of his closet with the other remnants of his old joys. It was too painful to look at them anymore, to see that reminder of happier times, when his joy had been real.

TV flickering to life at his command, he numbly watched the news, wanting noise to drown out the words in his mind. Oh but it never worked, they would always be there to haunt him when he went to sleep, stealing the rest from his body and leaving him drained by the time he had to wake up in the morning. The weather rolled by in a blur before something caught his eye. A man in a torn up punk rock style shirt who was flipping off the cameras. Arthur Kirkland, the name scrolled along the bottom of the newscast. Then a miracle happened.

Music played on the TV, video of this man’s concert, and something caught in the corner of Alfred’s vision. There was another flash to the side, and he’d seen it for sure that time! It had been green, he was sure of it! The video clip ended and he desperately waited, hoping that the music would play again, or perhaps the name of the band would be shown. When he had no such luck, Alfred turned to the internet, the saviour of his ignorance. Typing in the name Arthur Kirkland had led to a plethora of interview pages, but one particular name stood out. “Black Rose Tea...”

The name echoed in Alfred’s mind as he typed it into a video site, praying for results to show up. Blessedly, the band did pop up, album after album showing under the search results. He chose a song at random, listening to it while he lay on his bed. The colors graced him with their presence, shapes and words joining in and nearly making him cry from the feelings they evoked. He’d found them again, after so many years, his words and colored shapes had returned to him. The feelings within him were overwhelming, but he just kept playing songs, listening to each and every album, desperate to get more of that beautiful imagery flowing before his eyes. At around four in the morning, he ran out of songs to listen to, but that didn’t matter anymore. He had what he needed, and he was ready to give up everything he had to keep a hold of it.

The weeks rolled by as normal, but he now saw the world in a different light. Everything seemed brighter, happier, or maybe that was just him? The colors radiated so strongly, music filling his very soul and making his smiles feel less and less empty. When the news was announced that Black Rose Tea was coming on tour in the USA, Alfred had stayed up for 48 hours straight just to buy VIP tickets for the venue closest to him. He spent all the days before the concert preparing, unable to hold back his excitement, no matter how many odd looks he got from teammates and friends alike.

The night of the show, he was eagerly bouncing on his heels backstage, ready to see the band walk by and to their dressing rooms. What he saw soon after nearly broke his heart. The drummer of the band had walked out, leaving a fuming Arthur and a shell shocked Kiku Honda behind. Did they have a backup? From the looks they were giving each other, and their hushed tones, he figured that it was a no. Biting his lip, Alfred glanced warily at the large bodyguards, before he inched closer to the rope that kept the fans back. When he figured he was close enough, he realized he had no way to get their attention. That was when he remembered what he had brought for Arthur to sign.

Hurriedly, he pulled out the sheet of paper, the one that had the song of his sorrows on it, then scribbled a message on the back and balled it up. With a quick prayer to any diety that would listen, he threw the paper, hitting the singer on the back of the head. Surprised by the sudden hit, Alfred could soon see the glare he received from the rocker. Thankfully, the band’s other member, Kiku, had chosen to pick the paper up and unfolded it carefully. In black ink, the note read: ‘If you need a temporary drummer, I know how to play all your songs.’

Arthur took the note and read it, then he eyed Alfred warily before calling for security to bring him forward, all while the other fans nearby whined. Clearly they had not seen that fight as Alfred had, because they chose instead to complain about the concert being late to start and cutting into their autograph time. Holding up the note, Arthur raised an eyebrow at Alfred skeptically.

“Do you really know them all? Even the most recent release? It’s only been out for a month--”

Alfred nodded his head quickly. “If you give me sticks, I can prove it. I just... I just wanna help. I saw what happened right here and I know all these guys will definitely be upset if you had to cancel just because Francis is being a drama queen.”

That comment earned a snort from Arthur, who was now smirking. “I like you already. Follow me, we’ll see if you have what it takes to handle this job for one night. Can you sing?”

“Uh, I mean, I’m nowhere near as awesome as you, but I think-”

“Flattery gets you nowhere kid, can you sing?”

Alfred felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. “Dude, you’re only a year and a half older than me, I’m not a kid... and yeah, I can sing.”

As they stepped into a closed off rehearsal room, Kiku politely handed the paper back to Alfred. “You write well. Is this a song?”

“A songwriter, hm?” Arthur snatched the paper before Alfred could, and read it over.

That was it, Alfred’s life was complete, Arthur Kirkland was actually reading his song, oh sweet jeebus have mercy was it hot in here? Face as red as Kiku’s base, Alfred couldn’t help but fiddle with his jacket sleeves. What would Arthur think of his music? Surely it would look amateurish compared to any real singer, but Alfred figured that it at least had feelings to it. 

When he was done reading, Arthur’s eyes met Alfred’s, a startling green staring at his own blue with surprise. The words that left his lips caught Alfred off guard.

“You see them too?”

That very same green that filled Alfred’s soul with every song of Arthur’s he’d listened to, it was in his eyes right now. The world had come to a stand still, and Alfred could only numbly nod his head in affirmation. Yes, he did see them, he had for the longest time. “Your music brought them back to me. My whole world had lost color, but when i heard you, I- I could see again.”

A small, genuine smile was the response, and Alfred swore his heart had stopped in that very moment. Those beautiful eyes stared into his own and he felt a whole new type of color flow through him. It was one of the most glorious feelings Alfred had ever been lucky enough to experience. It may have been only infatuation, but it was a start.

“Come on, lad, we have a concert to perform. What’s your name?”

“Ah-uh, Alfred Jones.”

“Alfred, hm? Welcome to the band.”

Arthur handed the paper back after writing something on the top. It was a single word, one that Alfred had never heard before, and yet he knew what it meant already. A word for the things he saw when he was in the music, feeling it, breathing it, living it. Loving it.

Synesthesia.

**Author's Note:**

> Synesthesia is a neurological condition in which a person experiences “crossed” responses to stimuli. It occurs when stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (e.g., hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (e.g., vision).


End file.
